


i can't give you my soul

by remuslupin



Category: Kill Your Darlings (2013)
Genre: Cardiophilia, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslupin/pseuds/remuslupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a take on what could have happened between jack and lucien after the lakeside kiss. [platonic fic.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can't give you my soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leafykins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafykins/gifts).



> this is for atom's birthday!!!!!!!!! i hope you enjoy, man!!!
> 
> writing in jack's pov was a fun experience, i might try to write something else from his perspective at some point so i can get more practice! 
> 
> comments/kudos-thingies are much appreciated!!!

“allen’s got work to do. ten pages on spengler’s _decline of the west._ due tomorrow.”

lucien carr is like a tornado. he charges in without any warning, entices everyone around him (no matter how dangerous they know he is), and never fails to leave a trail of destruction behind him after he has finished.

he's a whirlwind of colour and laughter and excitement— until you realise that he's left you behind, that is. you can't imagine just how awful al must feel as you and lu walk away from him, but you also find that you can't exactly bring yourself to think about anything other than walking without wanting to throw up. again. so, it's not entirely easy for you to feel any sort of empathy at the moment.

the walk home is quiet. you speak up more than once, all smiles and drunken enthusiasm in an attempt to cut through the veil of tension that has settled over the pair of you like a thick haze, but lucien is having none of it. the longest answer you get during the journey is a curt “i’m not drunk enough to have this conversation with you,” after you finally collect enough sense to actually ask him what exactly had happened between him and allen while you’d been, uh… otherwise occupied.

the last one hundred and thirty-eight steps that the pair of you take towards your apartment are carried out in complete silence (you count them out silently as you go). after spending more time than you would if you were completely sober on pulling your keys out of your coat pocket, you finally fit the key into the lock and barge your way inside.

after a moment’s hesitation, lucien follows.

 

* * *

 

“you just _say_ that! it's one of your one million words, and they don't _mean_ anything!”

ouch.

at least lu isn't around to see you get yelled at by your own girlfriend (lu’s in the loo. pun probably intended). a beat of silence passes, and you can barely hear her next words over the constant pounding of your heart in your ears.

“just don't be here when i come back in the morning.”

you don't protest when she takes grandma frankie’s arm in her own and leads the woman out of the apartment. maybe it's better this way.

almost as if on cue, lucien steps back into the room just as the front door slams shut, and it only takes a moment for you to decide that you’re unwilling to go through any more drama tonight. it unnerves you to see him look like so uncharacteristically timid and out of place in your home— he has always been the most confident person in the room, and yet it seems as if all he wants right now is to be the _only_ person in the room.

so, you let him have that option.

you leave soundlessly, making a beeline for your room. once you're inside, it takes you a moment to realise that lucien is all too capable of being just as quiet as you. after turning away from your chest of drawers with a shirt clutched in hand, you blink startledly as your gaze lands on lu, who is leaning by the doorway with downcast eyes. he still hasn't said a word.

“come on, lu. what's the matter? you were fine up until i left you alone with al.”

“nothing’s the matter.” he shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat with a shrug. his scarf is lopsided— you curl your fingers into the fabric of the shirt in your grasp in an active attempt to stop yourself from stepping towards him and fixing the scarf’s positioning.

it takes a deep breath through your nose for you to establish the fact that you can't even pretend to believe his words for a _second_. “it's barely ten-thirty on a _friday_ , and we’re already home. _that_ tells me something’s wrong.”

“ _nothing’s the matter_ , kerouac. would you drop it?”

you don't _want_ to drop it. your first instincts are to tell lu that he should either tell you what's making him feel so blue or just go the hell back to his dormitory at columbia— but you know that if you forced him to choose, he'd pick the latter option without a second thought.

yet another moment of silence passes between the two of you, before you shrug dismissively.

“–well then, i guess the bed’s big enough for both of us.”

“what?”

“i’d be a fink to think that al isn't part of the problem. all i’m sayin’ is that edie’s not coming back tonight. if you don't want to go back to columbia then you should stay here, lu–”

he has clambered halfway onto the bed before you’ve even gotten the chance to finish your latest sentence. he doesn't look at you until he's seated himself atop the covers in a cross-legged position (covers that you will both inevitably kick away from your bodies during the course of this despairingly hot summer evening), and you suspect that he's under the impression that you're going to tease him as you meet his gaze, but all you do is glance down at the shirt that's bundled in your hands before tossing it towards him.

“get changed. we’ve been walking around the streets all day, i don't need you bringing all the grime and diseases of new york into my bed.”

he doesn't get a chance to reply with the witty comment that you can practically _feel_ aching to tumble from his lips before you're pulling a pair of boxers out of your chest of drawers and aiming it at lucien, too. “ _change_. you acting like a stray isn't gonna stop me from throwing you out on your ass if you don’t wanna listen to me.”

you don't wait for an answer; instead, you pad out of the room and into the bathroom to change. you're still tugging a shirt over your abdomen when you move back into your bedroom, and the corners of your lips quirk upwards as you catch sight of lucien, who is flicking through the novel that had previously been sitting in a rather haphazard position on your bedside table.

as he looks up at you, a smile to match yours breaks across his features, and your insides melt.

“rimbaud?” he holds the book up with a short laugh. “it's almost as if you knew i’d be spending the night.”

“you're not the _only one_ who likes rimbaud, you know,” you answer him with a snort, and wait until he puts the book down before flicking the room light off and closing the distance between yourself and the bed.

“budge over, asshole.”

“gee, i didn't know you needed _that_ much space.”

“unless you want me to climb on top of you, i think i _do_ need that much space.”

“somehow, i get the feeling that you _want_ to be on top of me.”

“you wish, carr.”

finally, he shuffles over, and gives you the opportunity to climb onto the bed. your lips are still caught in the ghost of a smile as you turn onto your side and get comfortable, and when you look up at lu, you're a little surprised to see that he's looking right back at you.

“what?”

he doesn't answer. at least, not verbally.

the covers shift as he slowly slides closer to you, and you're one second away from making a comment about how maybe _lucien’s_ the one who wants to be on top of _you_ before he's lifting a hand, and splaying it out atop your chest.

you can _feel_ your heart beating against the palm of lu’s hand, and it causes butterflies to careen towards all ends of your ribcage and violently flap their wings in perfect synchronisation with your pulse. his hand stays steady against your chest, and as you search his expression, you're pleasantly surprised to see that though his eyes are closed, his lips are angled upwards into a small smile. even your own incredulous expression has slowly morphed into one of content as the two of you lie there in silence, because despite your initial feeling of apprehension, the gentle touch has calmed you down immensely.

he slides even closer to you now, and pushes his head against your shoulder with a content sigh— if the room wasn’t so blissfully quiet, you're sure that you would have never even heard the sound leave his lips.

“what are you doing?”

your voice doesn't carry too far in the small room, but lucien is close enough to hear it anyway.

“i’m feeling your pulse. what does it _look_ like i’m doing?”

you swallow heavily.

“carr. you're goddamn _crazy_.”

it's far from the first time that you've said those words to him, but it _is_ the first time that your words are filled with a raw kind of emotion that only lucien carr would ever be able to manage to draw from you.

even though the lazy moonlight that shines through your bedroom window is your only source of light, you still see the small (and almost _rueful_ ) smile that stretches across lucien’s lips as he tilts his head up to look at you properly. your hand lifts, and settles atop his waist as he speaks next.

“you love me.”

you do.


End file.
